Main Menu

Cerita chatting melencap

She stood alone in the sodden field on the outskirts of Paris, her fashionable ankle boots firmly planted in the mud churned up by the cavalry who drilled there.No, she would not be tied to the stake, she told her executioners politely. She faced the barrels of the firing squad without flinching.

Sexual favours were her only useful assets, but she did not see Holland as the best place to exploit them.To the men, however, that look was seductive, and she made the most of it."Her languid, graceful style of moving, her dark eyes and luxurious hair, telegraphed her sexuality to any male in her presence," writes Shipman.Over her shoulders she slung a vivid blue coat like a cloak to keep out the cold October air.In a black car with its window blinds down, Margaretha Zelle, convicted of espionage, was then driven at speed through the still streets of the capital - a place she loved with a passion, though she was Dutch not French - to this damp and drear spot.He was constantly in debt; she was extravagant, always spending.

As for his syphilis, caught overseas, he neglected to tell her. Nonetheless, she bore him two children, and they returned as a family to his new posting in the colonies.

The 12 soldiers in their khaki uniforms and red fezzes raised their rifles.

She waved to the two weeping nuns who had been her comfort in prison and on her last journey. The officer in charge marched forward and fired a single bullet into her brain, the coup de grace. The woman who was executed that day in 1917 was better known as Mata Hari, the name Zelle had chosen for herself when she became Europe's queen of unbridled eroticism, an exotic dancer, courtesan, harlot, great lover, spendthrift, liar, deceiver and thief. That is what - in the fevered atmosphere of France in World War I, with the Kaiser's troops encamped within its borders - she had been shot for.

In 1903, with little money and no contacts, she took herself off to Paris.

There, she would recreate herself as a model, an actress, perhaps, or a chic cosmopolitan in that chicest of cities.

And with France gripped by anti-German spy mania, few would stick their heads above the parapet to defend her.